An Inch
by NettieC
Summary: The distance between life and death can be as small as an inch...This is Ella's take on one of her family's hardest days.


Disclaimer: all the usual stuff..

AN: This is the 20th story in the Ella Series

_**An Inch**_

It had been a harrowing month, not only in the MacKenzie-Rabb household but for many homes in the surrounding area. While Mac and Harm were busy trying to support their family and community through what was undoubtedly the most difficult of times, Ella was trying to deal with things on her own terms.

It was on a balmy May night that Ella stood at the podium in the school's auditorium and told the world what was on her mind and in her heart. It was a school literacy evening and teachers had chosen those who had written exceptional pieces throughout the year to share them on this particular evening.

Ella was the sixth student to speak and the first one to present a composition. While all the others were presenting previously completed work, Ella had gotten permission to present the piece she had titled 'An Inch'.

_"An Inch,"_ she started, a slight tremble to her voice. _"Wednesday April 21st," she began and Mac grasped Harm's hand. That would be a date they would never, ever forget. "Was the day the world changed. For most of the world it was just an ordinary Wednesday, however, for me, my family and many others in this community, it was the day our lives were changed forever."_ She drew a deep breath and then another.

_"Silverleaf Elementary was the school I attended, it was an excellent school and I loved it very much. The school prided itself in academic excellence as well as providing a safe and secure environment and developing the whole child with a variety of enrichment programs. It was also the school of my brother and sister and still would be if the gunman hadn't entered that day and caused catastrophic damage, death and destruction."_ Ella willed her emotions to stay in check and her hands to stop trembling.

_"We all know the toll of that day. We have all cried. We have all asked why and how. My six-year-old sister, Ruby, was in a classroom at the other end of the school to the shooting. My seven-year-old brother, David, was in the firing line. When my mother reached the school, David's class was unaccounted for. I cannot imagine the terror she felt. I later heard my mother, who is a very experienced and war-weary marine, tell my father that it was the worst moment in her life. I know some of the horror and pain she has experienced previously, experiences a lesser person would not cope with. So, it puts into perspective the horror of the moment as she waited for news of David._

_When some of David's class finally made it to the assembly area, David was not among them. His teacher, bloodied and in shock, informed my mother that he was not among the known injured or the dead but couldn't tell her where he was. Can you imagine that moment? Can you imagine the fear? The panic? The dread?"_ Mac rested her head on Harm's shoulder and wept.

_"Ignoring police requests, my mother ran towards David's classroom not knowing what had become of her beautiful son. Stopping in the hallway she took in the activity. Police, paramedics, other emergency personnel doing all they could for the ones unable to walk away from this classroom. Calling for David resulted in a whimpering and my mom opened the fire hose reel box just outside the next classroom. There she found David's best friend, Sam. Sam is a special needs child and was very distressed. The moment he saw my mom he was so relieved he wet himself. Clinging to my mom he told her that David had taken his hand and pulled him out of the classroom. When the gunshots got louder, he pushed Sam into the box and made him promise to be really quiet and Sam swore to mom that he had been extra quiet as he didn't want to disappoint David. Then he said the words that still choke me up. Sam explained to mom that he thought David was hurt as there was a hole and red patch on his shirt."_ Muffled sounds of gasps and sobs echoed in the auditorium.

_"It was about an hour before David was found and I still remember the image caught by the local news station of my mother carrying his almost lifeless body from the building to the paramedics. There was no colour in either of their faces; David's blood was on them both."_ From her seat, five rows back, Mac wanted to call out to Ella, to tell her to stop. It was hard enough living through it at the time, she didn't need to go through it again. And yet, she said nothing, knowing as much as she didn't need to hear it, Ella needed to say it.

_"Hospital waiting rooms are cold and clinical. They are desperate places that offer no comfort at a time where people need it most. There, on torn orange vinyl benches, my parents, grandparents, sister and I waited for news. The surgery seemed to be going on and on...'a good thing' said my grandmother, 'it show's he's still fighting'. 'A bad thing,' said my brain. 'All that surgery must mean a lot of damage...a lot of damage to a little boy...a little chest'."_ Harm kissed Mac's head; he remembered that night vividly, he relived it every night in his sleep.

_"The television was on the local news station and there was a lot of coverage of the shooting. Images of my mother and brother appeared again and again. There were updates on the dead and injured, statistics related to gun violence, stories about the gunman, he's cache of weapons and ammunition, his troubled background, there was the outpouring of emotion from the community, footage of flowers and teddy bears being left near the school and then there was the gun debate and as much as everyone abhorred the act, not too many people were willing to concede perhaps now is the time to talk about gun control."_ There was a shuffling of feet.

_"But now is the time!"_ Ella stated emphatically. _"Now is the time before anymore children are slain in their classrooms, before anymore lives are so senselessly lost. I am from a military family; guns are a way of life. Both of my parents have used weapons before, both have killed others in the line duty or in self defence, my mother has even been shot herself. There are guns in our house. Guns which are securely locked away. Ammunition which is securely locked away in another safe place. I have fired a gun before on a hunting trip. Gun control will not change that. You will still be able to have a gun but the amount and type would be controlled."_ Ella could hear murmurings in the audience, some supportive, some not.

_"My brother was shot by the spray of a semi-automatic weapon. No civilian needs a semi-automatic weapon for self defence and I truly believe our forefathers would agree. My brother was shot for no other reason than being in his classroom when the gunman came in. My brother was shot but still managed to lead Sam to safety. At the scariest, and no doubt most painful moment of his young life, my brother was helping out someone more vulnerable. As a community, a state, a country, isn't that our job? Our children are the vulnerable ones, isn't it us who should be leading them to safety? Shouldn't we be saying enough is enough? Rather than shedding a few tears then shrugging our shoulders when we hear of the death or injury of a child through gun violence shouldn't we be doing something more constructive?"_ Ella's voice started to shake; twice she had to cough to clear her throat.

_"We waited in that cold waiting room for six hours before the surgeon came out. 'An inch,' he said, holding his thumb and forefinger that distance apart. 'An inch.' As he continued talking I zoned out. An inch..." She held her fingers up just as the surgeon did. "An inch...the difference between life and death. An inch...the difference between taking David home or burying him with our brother, Callum. An inch ... between our family's most blessed day and its most tragic. An inch."_ Folding the paper, Ella drew a deep breath before wiping her eyes.

As she turned to walk from the podium a man near the back stood. "Excuse me," he called out and Ella turned. "Your brother...he made it, didn't he?"

"Does it matter?" she replied, tears in her voice.

"Well, yeah, it does," the man replied looking around at the sea of faces watching him.

"Why?" Ella asked. "The number of children injured or killed by guns in this country in any given year is horrifying. He's just another statistic, isn't he?"

The man didn't know what to say.

"Is whether he lived or died going to change your mind about gun control?" she asked simply.

The man shrugged and sat in his seat.

"I thought as much," she sighed before walking off the stage, screwing up her composition and tossing it in the trash.

The fight for a safer way of life would be long, perhaps fruitless, and she was already exhausted. Leaning her head back against the wall in the corridor outside, Ella closed her eyes and sighed. She was determined she would make a difference in this world and she knew she could do it; she just had to do it an inch at a time.


End file.
